


Naked, Hazy Intimacy

by moodymarshmallow



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-18 00:32:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodymarshmallow/pseuds/moodymarshmallow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theodora Murphy only goes to parties for the beer and the atmosphere, that is, until she meets Frankie Hawke...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Naked, Hazy Intimacy

There is nothing unique about Univeristy parties. They are flush with the same faces, the same cheap beer in red plastic cups, the same inoffensive Top 40s dance music. Guys go to get drunk and scope out girls, hoping for a hook-up, hoping for a night of messy, drunken sex where nobody gives a shit about one another in the morning. Girls go to dance, to grind against their friends to the thumping heartbeat of music and crowd, laughing and smiling, radiant with youth and beauty.

I come to the parties for the free beer, cheap as it may be, and because I’m invited and generally not rude enough to blow off my friends, even if they do know I hate these things. I have a year left here and they’re all fresh-faced first-years, crackling with the excitement of being away from home. They eat top ramen and cheap, cardboard pizza so they can spend their money on beer, and party so hard on the weekends that they can’t remember what Friday’s classes were about.

They’re kind of cute, really, in a naive sort of way. The world will eat them alive eventually, but they should enjoy this freedom while they have the chance. So when they say that one of their friends is holding a party at the sorority, or their boyfriend’s frat is holding a toga party, I go along to soak up the atmosphere and sit quietly on whatever comfortable surface is available, drowning myself in free beer and cheap, deep-fried food.

I’m on my third beer when I see her. She’s leaning over the counter and talking to the person dispensing snacks. I don’t recognize either of them, but for just a moment, I forget what I’m doing.

She’s tall, over six feet most likely, and she has a body like a hollywood starlet--or a porn star. she has a slim waist but thick hips, and under the hem of her mini-skirt she has luscious thighs. She could model bikinis with her chest, and as some frat boy slips past me, bumping into me, I’m suddenly aware of how cool the air is under my dress when I feel the electric tingle of shameless attraction, spurred on by how hazy I am from the beer. She pushes herself off the counter and I get a good look at her face, silver glinting from her nose and lip, and every inch of my skin is buzzing with the desire to walk up to her and tug on that lip ring with my teeth.

I wonder if she’s single; I wonder if she’s into chicks. I wonder how good it would feel to get my head between those thighs and lick and lick and lick. I wonder how long it’s going to take for me to soak through my thong.

I tear my eyes away from her and continue my trip to the keg, holding out my cup to the half-drunk guy manning the beer. There are some bottles of better stuff behind him in a cooler, but the cheap lager in the keg is free, and I’m not paying for beer at one of these parties.

“You really should get a bottle of the stout instead,” says an unfamiliar voice behind me. I turn and it’s her, and she’s even more gorgeous close up. She has perfect skin, creamy and unblemished, no freckles--I should be so lucky. It’s the middle of summer now and I’ve been stupid enough to go to the beach; I’m nothing but freckles.

She looks me over, slow and deliberate, and I grin.

“You buying?” I ask, and she nods, messy black bangs falling into intense blue eyes. I toss my cup and she hands a bill to the beer guy. He gives us two chilly, wet bottles of dark stout and she throws an arm around me, dangling the hand with the beer over my shoulder so frost sloughs off and lands on my dress.

“Let’s go outside,” she says, loud to be heard over the music, and I nod as she drags me through the crowd, elbowing a guy who’s far past drunk out of her way. I like her already.

She finds the sliding glass door to the balcony and takes me through it. The air outside is pleasant and cool. The scent of wet grass is interrupted by that of lighter fluid, and when I look at her she’s holding a steel flip-top lighter to the cigarette between her lips. She takes a drag before she speaks again.

“I’m Frankie,” she says with a smile that makes it look like the whole world’s on its knees for her. “What’s your name?”

“Theodora,” I say. “Thea.”

“That’s new.” She cracks open the bottle while holding the cigarette between her teeth. “Freshman?”

“Senior.” I open my bottle too; the serrated cap leaves little impressions on my palm.

“No shit?” Frankie looks me over again, beer bottle to her lips, and I know she’s thinking that I look younger than that because that’s what everyone thinks. I’m short, chestless, and have big doe eyes--I couldn’t look more fresh out of high school if I tried. “What’s your major?”

“Art History.” I say, waiting for the inevitable snicker and insinuation that I’ll be waiting tables for the rest of my life. I’ve waited tables before--it was awful.

“You planning on going the professor route?”

“Actually, I’m hoping to curate a museum.” The wet spot on my dress from the frost has soaked through to my skin and the breeze makes it icy. But as I hear the thudding bass from inside, I’m glad to be out here.

“That’s cool.” Frankie’s finishing her cigarette, puffing it down to the filter, and I look out at the pool underneath us. Most people are inside, but there are a few out here with us, shrieking with laughter as someone cannonballs of the high dive. “I’m studying film,” she says, and stubs out her cigarette on the metal railing.

“Gonna be the next Spielberg?” I ask, and she snorts.

“Nah. I’m gonna make something good.” She grins again and this time I do too. She leans down and puts her lips close to my ear. “I wanna fuck you,” she whispers, and I suck in a startled little gasp unintentionally. She makes this small chuckling noise, the verbal equivalent of a smirk, and straightens up again.

“What’s stopping you?” I turn to her and look up at her eyes and the smile that spreads across her face is devious. She sets her bottle on the railing and slips her arm around my waist without even making an attempt to pretend she’s not going for my ass.

“I was just waiting for permission, honey.” She grabs a handful of my ass and pulls me to her. I have to hold up my beer to keep it from sloshing on my dress, so I put that arm over her shoulder as she leans down to kiss me. I remind myself to thank whoever it is that invited me to this particular party, but I can’t remember who it was when her lips move against mine. The little silver ring looped through her lip is warm and I immediately touch it with my tongue. She kisses hard; I like that, but when I feel the hem of my skirt hiking up over my ass I pull away and grab her hand.

“Not out here,” I say, feeling the flush rising on my cheeks already.

“Why not?”

“Because someone will see us,” I say slowly, raising an irritated brow at her.

“Isn’t that half the fun?” She grins. I shake my head no and she sighs dramatically. “Well let’s just find a room inside then,” she says and takes my hand.

She leads me through the halls and I don’t know where she’s taking me, but we’re laughing and around every corner she pushes me against the wall and cups my breast through my dress as she kisses me. Her hands are everywhere; we turn another corner and she pulls the clip out of my hair. All I see is a massive curtain of red before she pushes it out of my eyes to push her tongue between my lips. “You are so fucking gorgeous,” she growls, low, and I can feel her voice vibrating in her chest. “I gotta get you out of this dress.”

“Find a room.”

“I’m looking--” She stops and grabs a doorknob, pushing open the door. Inside there’s a bed with a couple of light jackets laying on top of it, and she pulls me through the door and closes it behind us.

I back into the bed as she lifts my dress, and her hands are hot up my sides as she yanks it over my head. She looks me over and says goddamn under her breath. I resist the urge to roll my eyes at her. I have a body like an adolescent boy and I know it, but maybe that’s her fetish--I’m okay with that.

As soon as I’m on the bed she’s on top of me, still dressed, her hand on my breast, her thumb rolling over my nipple until it’s hard. She kicks off the coats so she doesn’t lie on them and settles on top of me, her breasts pressing to mine, her face against the side of my neck. Her tongue gives me a good shiver, and I tighten my hand on her side. I get swept up in her, lost in the scent of her perfume, bright and citrusy. Every time her lips are near mine I kiss them, and she’s rocking against me lightly, her leg between my thighs.

When she stops and sits up, I think she’s going to get undressed, but she slides off the bed and tells me to wait. I wait, flushed and catching my breath, aching with how much I want her.

She comes back with a red cup and I raise a brow at her, wondering how getting beer was so important that she stopped in the middle of foreplay. But when she sits down next to me again she sticks her hand in the cup and comes out with an ice cube. I lay back, stretch myself out, and watch her intently as she hovers the hand over my chest. A few cold drops land on my skin and I gasp.

"I didn't know you were going to be kinky," I say with a shiver as she runs the ice between my breasts. She smiles, leans down, and licks the cold line of water.

"This isn't kinky. This is just fun," she says, then kisses me again, her lips cool and wet. I lick water off of them and I downright whimper when the ice cube touches my nipple. I twist away from the cold, but she holds it there and presses it to my skin. The chill is intense as she circles it around the hardened tip, and when she puts her mouth over it, tongue pressing firm to my nipple, the temperature shift is delicious.

"Tease," I say, no teeth in my voice. She's got me melting like warm chocolate, and I can't remember the last time I ached so desperately. I want to touch myself, but I touch her instead. I trail my hands over her breasts to feel the weight of them. They're not enormous, but they're a good size. I bet she fills out a bikini really well, and I have an errant thought about going to the beach with her, stretched out like lazy cats on a blanket and making out with the sun hot on our skin. I'm full of her and I already want more.

I bury my face in her hair when she teases my nipple with her lips, with her tongue, and I find her hand, cold and wet, and bring it to my face. I kiss her palm, her wrist; I lick the melt water off of her hand and suck the tip of her finger. I guide that hand down my body, and she leans up to watch me. I linger on my chest, my hand atop hers, moving her fingers around the soft curve of my small breast before moving down, over my stomach, stopping at the elastic band of my skimpy underwear. I let her hand go and tilt my hips for her.

"Touch me," I whisper, husky and low, and I see her shudder when she catches a breath.

She slides one finger gently over the white cotton, ignoring the waistband to touch me through them. Her finger brushes my clit and I whimper softly, sweetly, and I feel how open and wet I am when she drags the finger lower.

"Frankie," I say, and she looks up at me, still gently working her finger from my clit to the bottom of my lips. "I wanna see your body. Please?" I sit up and run my hands up her sides, brush them across her breasts. "I wanna see," I say again, then I kiss her, urgent and needy.

When I grip the hem of her shirt she raises her arms so I can pull it off. She has birds tattooed on her chest, but not cute little songbirds like I see on so many of the young girls on campus. These are birds of prey, all fierce talons and curved beaks--raptors, falcons or maybe hawks. Her bra is black and lacy, thin enough for me to see her nipples, dark pink and taut, a silver barbell through the one on the left. I didn't think it was possible to want her more, but I do.

Her bra clasps in the front so I slide open the hook and eye, and as she shrugs it off I see the dandelion on her hip. I wonder how many more tattoos she has. I wonder if she'll let me lick them all. But her breasts are bare so I hold them, liking her smooth skin and the heaviness in my hands. I stroke her nipples with my thumbs, the metal bar through the left one damn near makes my mouth water, so as she unhooks her skirt to slip out of it, I run the flat of my tongue up her nipple then close my mouth over it. She breathes deep and I look up at her, circling her nipple with my tongue, bringing my teeth down terribly gentle, testing, waiting. She groans and presses her lips together so firm that they're white, so I release her and move to her other breast, rubbing my cheek on the warm, soft flesh before softly nipping.

"Jesus Christ," she growls, and grabs me by the shoulders. Startled, I stop, and she pushes me firm to the mattress. Her eyes are wild and she kisses me hard, crushing her breasts to mine, bringing our bellies flush. I spread my legs and let her in between them, propping them bent at the knees with my feet flat on the mattress. She moves down my body, hot kisses and wet tongue, and when she gets between my legs she spreads my thighs more with her hands. Then she licks, tongue to cotton, slow and long up my cunt. I'm wet and I'm wanting and I moan for her. I spread my legs more, wanton for her, just for her, only her in these long moments as her tongue finds my clit and runs over it again and again, driving me to whines and moans and pleading.

When she slides off my panties I'm already halfway there, trembling for her to thrust her tongue inside of me as deeply as it will go. She leans over to kiss me instead, forceful and clumsy, her open mouth sliding over my lips down my chin. She kisses it as if it was her original plan, then moves to my mouth again, all tongue and need while she slides her fingers between my soaking lips.

Between my legs again she's single minded. She does not touch my thighs or reach up to pinch my nipples, she just runs her tongue in slow circles around my clit, brushing it only gently with the very tip of her tongue until I'm writhing and gasping. She grabs my hips and lifts my ass with ease. I shift my feet to better prop myself up, and she presses her tongue low, between my lips, so deep that her mouth is pushing against my cunt. I feel the firmness of her teeth, but she's careful, gentle, and she moves the tip of her tongue inside of me, then out again, moving back to my clit.

"Use your fingers," I whisper. "Fuck me with them."

She obeys immediately, sliding two fingers inside of me and curling them in just a bit. She flicks her tongue over my clit again and that's all it takes, a few licks and a few strokes with her fingers and I'm over the edge. It hits me with intensity, and I grip fistfuls of the blanket when the pulse of orgasm comes, moaning, feeling my muscles clench tight around her then release. "Don't stop," I gasp, and she doesn't. She pushes me through it, thrusting her fingers, rubbing my clit with her tongue, and when it tapers off I feel it coming again. I cry out, overwhelmed, and though the second orgasm is never as intense as the first, the speed in which it comes leaves me moaning in joy. There's a third before I ask her to stop, and I'm dizzy and sweating and trembling when she does. My thighs are twitching and my breath comes in short, stuttering gasps.

"Oh my god," I say when I can speak again. She's stroking my stomach slowly, lying next to me, running her fingers down through my pubic hair then up again, nails light on my skin.

"That was really fucking hot," Frankie says with a toothy grin. She kisses me and I taste myself on her lips. I don't care.

We switch places; she lays on her back and I climb over her, feeling her shudder when I suck on her neck. I stay there for a while, driving her mad, her fingers clenching my back as I tongue her rabbit-quick pulse. I move down quickly, stopping only to lick the tattoo on her hip before I slide my fingers into the waistband of her black lace panties and pull them down her hips. Most of her pubic hair is shaved, only a little strip of it, meticulously manicured, remains. I kiss that little strip of hair before I settle myself between her legs, worming my shoulders under her thighs.

I love having my tongue on her lips, parting them, pushing in to the tremendous heat and wet. I almost giggle at the thought that this is how I knew I was a dyke, loving the taste, the warmth, the slick softness under my tongue. Her clit is sensitive; she jerks and gasps when I touch it, so I'm gentle, giving it the most whisper soft of licks until I figure out how much she can take. "You like this?" I ask more than once, and every time she hisses _fuck yes_ at me.

I don't use my fingers; I need them between my own legs as the excitement from eating her out brings me close again. I slide them inside me the best I can from the angle, but it's not enough. I want a toy so I can really get fucked, and I wonder if she'd wear a strap-on for me if I asked. My clit is still sensitive enough to get me off though, and I do as I give her long strokes of my tongue from her clit to the base of her lips.

It's messy and primal and I love it.

She grabs my hair when she comes, grinding on my tongue until she shoves me away. I figure she's over sensitive, so I move to her side and trail my hand up her body to stroke her side.

"Was that as good for you as it was for me?" I ask.

"Oh fuck yes," she growls, and turns to kiss me again. This time it's slow, almost tender.

"So, uh, you wanna hook up again sometime?"

"Fuck yes," she repeats, and I laugh.

I curl around her, my head on the pillow next to hers, sweaty and sated and slowly coming down off the dizzying high of orgasm. She wraps her arms around me and pulls me to her chest. We kiss more; we kiss like lovers, and in that naked, hazy intimacy, I fall asleep in the arms of my temporary love, my infatuation.


End file.
